


Howl Until It Hurts

by HigherMagic



Category: Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Gun Violence, M/M, Murder, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic
Summary: Nigel saves Aiden from the wolves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsanelyWriteful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyWriteful/gifts).



> For my darling Rainy! Until this week I had never seen Charlie Countryman, or Blood and Chocolate, and so here's my attempt to write the ChocolateDogs ship! There will be more chapters :D

Nigel has a type, let no one argue that. He likes sharp, strong jaws. Hair you can just grab by the handful. Sweet mouths, eyes the color of sea glass and broken windows and -.

Well, that might be getting a little specific.

He's been watching this gorgeous creature for weeks, watched him grow inevitably closer to the seal of his own fate. He's far from a connoisseur of the arts but he knows a Goddamn masterpiece when he sees it, and it would be such a shame to rid the world of those beautiful, ivy-water eyes, that _mouth_.

Gun in one hand, cigarette in the other, he crouches down on the safe side of the river. It would be, after all, suicide to try and cross it, and he understands the idea of earning one's life – it's a noble venture, if he does say so himself, even for a pack of cocksucking dogs.

The boy emerges from the trees and throws himself into the river, pushing quickly over and up the embankment on the other side. Nigel hums, taking one last pull from his cigarette, and tosses it to the ground, squished beneath his shoe.

"What about your Goddamn _river_?" Nigel will hand it to him – the kid is all bark but he's definitely got some bite too, if the bloody knife in his hand is any indication. The wolf that has cornered him snarls, foreleg sizzling from a clean cut, and then looks up, licking its maw as Nigel comes into view.

Nigel smiles, aims his revolver at Gabriel's head. "Now, now," he says. "Don't be a little shit, Gabriel. He won your fucking game. Let him go."

Gabriel snaps at him, ears flat, and Nigel tilts his head, and lets off a warning shot between the wolf's feet. Gabriel yelps, darting back, and the kid scrambles to his feet. He's drenched from the river, clothes leaving very little to Nigel's more-than-willing-to-compensate imagination, his hair curling around his ears, face flushed, and those _eyes_ …

"Come on, gorgeous," Nigel says. The rest of Gabriel's pack have found their way to the river and, should shock value not hold out, they will quickly be overrun. The kid looks at him, looks at him, and steps back with him, but doesn't take Nigel's hand.

Gabriel snarls, and snaps, and Nigel is sure he'll hear about this the next time he forays out to the bar, but they are not pursued.

He holsters his gun, lets out a sigh, and digs out another cigarette, lighting it behind his cupped hand in a series of puffs. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

The kid shivers, looks at Nigel with teeth on edge and shoulders tensed. "Aiden," he replies. Then, almost reluctantly, like it's dragged from the bottom of his throat; "Thank you."

Nigel smiles, hums, lets out a cloud of smoke to the open, windless air. "You smoke, Aiden?" he asks.

Aiden shakes his head. His curls, wet and sopping, bounce around his face, cling to the striking line of his jaw. He really is simply _lovely_ to look at, especially in the moonlight.

Aiden is clutching his arm, blood and dirt seeping slowly from between his fingers, and Nigel tuts. "We'll have to get that looked at," he says. Aiden nods, almost absently, seeming content to blindly follow for now. "You should come with me."

"Should I?" Aiden snips, lifting his chin when Nigel looks at him. It shows the enticing arch of his neck, the sharp jut of his collarbones and Nigel huffs, grinning. "You knew them. You knew the leader's name."

"That I did," Nigel says.

"How?"

"Because he's a little pissbaby," Nigel replies with a shrug. "I trade in pissbabies. Fucker killed one of my men, so now I get to rip his prize right out of his hands." He laughs, and laughs harder when Aiden merely blinks at him, like he's not quite sure if Nigel is real.

"You're not…?" Aiden clears his throat, swallows, and gingerly touches the side of his bruised jaw. Whether he fell during the chase, or whether Gabriel's men did that to him to bring them to his hunt, Nigel will see each hair harmed on Aiden's head repaid a thousand times in wolf blood. "You're not one of them, are you?"

Nigel laughs. "No, darling," he replies.

Aiden comes to a stop, abruptly. Nigel turns, head cocked, and crushes his cigarette under his shoe when Aiden looks him in the eye, looks at him and then, slowly, he holds out the silver knife in his hand, handle first.

"Prove it," he says, icy and shivering and oh, if there is love at first sight Nigel's the slowest fucker on the planet Earth to only feel it now.

Nigel steps forward, another, and Aiden is shaking with cold, but his eyes are defiant, pupils wide and black swallowing up the ocean-green of his iris, and Nigel smiles, and cups his wet neck. Feels the thrum of his pulse and watches Aiden's white-lined lips tighten, press together, every muscle in him going tense.

Nigel tilts his head, brushes his thumb over the line of Aiden's jaw – a jut of bone that has been plastered along his eyelids for the better part of a month, ever since he caught sight of the boy sketching outside of a chocolate shop, his pages full of pictures of wolves and things he shouldn't know about. Poor Vivian – it's not just Gabriel who will find himself without a prize come morning.

Aiden stiffens, like he can see Nigel's thoughts, and Nigel laughs as his jaw is abruptly tilted up, the sharp, bloodied edge of Aiden's knife sitting across his throat. But his skin does not burn, does not sizzle and grow poisoned.

Aiden breathes out, and lowers the knife, and Nigel feels the flex of his throat beneath his hand, feels Aiden's touch, gentle, knuckles only, against his chest. "You're human," he whispers.

"As human as you are, darling," Nigel replies.

Aiden's cheeks are regaining color, a soft pink blush of heat, and he clears his throat and steps away, and lets out a huff, looking over his shoulder. "We should keep moving," he murmurs.

Nigel nods. The woods are certainly not safe on nights like this. "Come on then, gorgeous," he says, and turns, beginning their trek anew. Aiden's shadow falls across his flank, the kid jittery, reminding Nigel of junkies coming down from their high, scratching at the insides of their wrists, looking at Nigel with wide eyes and _please, please, just a hit, Nigel, I'll do whatever you want._

His nose wrinkles, and he lights another cigarette. "Those things'll kill you, you know," Aiden says. He has a gentle voice, when it's not sharp with anger or fear. Nigel grins at him.

"So will fucking around with wolves," he replies around another clouded exhale. Aiden fixes him with a look, and rolls his eyes.

Nigel takes him to his safehouse, where he's been laying low in Bucharest after the whole ugly business with Gabi and that cocksucking Countryman went down. She would have said it's a perfect place to lick his wounds – a small apartment on top of a youth hostel, separate from the rest of the hoodlums and tourists who will likely find themselves dead from overdose in the next few weeks. He's meant to wait here until Darko comes, but Nigel has never been one to be caged, and Darko's taking his sweet fucking time about it.

Aiden peruses his apartment with a single raised eyebrow and an unimpressed frown on his face. Yet he walks in, makes himself at home by kicking off his wet, muddy shoes and plopping himself down on the mattress Nigel has been calling a bed. The sheets are dotted with blood and semen stains, and he eyes them distastefully.

Nigel grins at him, kicking the door shut and unloading his gun, setting it on the small circular table by the window. He looks at Aiden and Aiden looks at him, unafraid, almost daring Nigel to approach him. Nigel does, and nods to Aiden's wet clothes.

"Take your shirt off," he says.

Aiden's eyes flash, dark, dark green like wet moss, and he lifts his chin.

Nigel grins at him. "I have something you can wear," he says. "You'll catch your death, soaked as you are, and with all that mud you'll end up getting gangrene or something."

Aiden winces, and stands, pulling off his wet shirt and letting it fall into a damp lump at his feet. Nigel shouldn't be surprised to see that he's just as lovely here, too – his shoulders, though slim, are tensed with muscle, shoulder blades sharp, hipbones jutting beneath soft flesh. His chest still holds some of youth's flatness, just beginning to fill out, and Nigel's fingers clench. He thinks about touching this boy, wonders if he would be able to get every part of him to turn pink.

Aiden looks at him, shows his upper teeth, and Nigel smiles. "Sit down, gorgeous," he says. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Aiden huffs, but sits. The cut on his arm is an angry mess of welting red, smeared with mud. Nigel drags a chair over and reaches for the first aid kit he keeps beneath his pillow. If Aiden thinks the placement of it, or its ready presence, is odd, he doesn't say anything. He opens it, digs out a disinfecting wipe and tears back the packaging, cleaning Aiden's arm with brisk efficiency.

Aiden hisses, fingers curling, muscles in his bicep and forearm flexing at the pain. Nigel feels Aiden's eyes on him, feels their burn. Hears, very soft, the wet slip of his tongue between his lips. "How long have you known about the wolves?"

"They're a staple of this city," Nigel replies, throwing the wipe away and pulling out gauze and bandages. The cut wasn't deep, the blood leaking from it is already slowing. He presses a long rectangle over the cut and Aiden, without prompting, presses his fingers over it, holding it steady as Nigel unwraps the Ace bandage. "Everyone who's anyone knows about them."

Aiden huffs, blowing a wayward curl from his forehead. "Guess I'm no one, then," he mutters.

Nigel smiles at him. "Not to me, gorgeous," he replies, and Aiden's cheeks turn several shades darker, his lips pressing together like he's trying not to smile. Nigel presses the first end of the bandage to the bottom of the gauze, wrapping it around Aiden's slim arm with practiced, efficient movements. As he works, Aiden slowly slips his fingers free, and by the time Nigel is done, his hair is fluffy and dried, the sweat and river water on his skin no more than a few errant drips. The apartment is cold, his skin is pale and covered with goose bumps, his dusky nipples pebbled and just begging for a warm mouth.

Aiden's fingers flex when he's done, he turns his hand over, admiring the job. Nigel meets his eyes and Aiden smiles, softer with gratitude, now, and Nigel stands, packing the first aid kit away.

"You should sleep here tonight," Nigel tells him. "The wolves will keep to their forests, but the streets won't be safe come sunrise."

Aiden hums, and Nigel turns to find him eyeing the bandage, nails of his free hand dragging tentatively over it, his lips pressed together, brow creased. "I was supposed to leave," he murmurs. "I was going to leave. I would have."

Nigel huffs. "No man should be chased from his home. Even if a pretty girl asks him to go."

"You've been watching me," Aiden says. He doesn't sound upset. Doesn't even sound surprised. Perhaps he knew.

So Nigel admits it, openly; "Yes."

Aiden smiles at him. It brightens his eyes, and Nigel, again, is struck by just how _lovely_ he is to look at. He runs a hand through his hair, rolls his bare shoulders, and scratches at his smooth jaw. "I don't suppose you have a plan?" he asks. "Men like you always have plans."

"Men like me?" Nigel repeats, smiling. He washes his hands of Aiden's blood, the pink cling of it staining the grimy sink, and dries his hands on his jeans as he returns to Aiden's side, sitting next to him on his bed.

Aiden nods, biting his lower lip. He looks down at his knees. "Men like you," he says, and doesn’t offer any explanation. Nigel is sure there are more layers than one to peel back from that. He sighs, and digs into his shirt pocket, pulling out another cigarette. He lights it, and Aiden's nose crinkles at the smell.

"I can make sure they don't fuck with you," Nigel says after a moment of silence that is not exactly companionable. It feels too charged for that; Aiden sits beside him like a staticky cat. His hands are shaking and Nigel sighs, blowing out the first drag in a ring of smoke. He touches his tongue to his upper lip and slants his gaze towards Aiden. "Though I think it's fair to say your friendship with the wolf girl is off the table now."

Aiden grimaces, sighing, and rubs his hands over his face. "Yeah," he mutters. Nigel lets his gaze rake down, admires the rolls of Aiden's soft belly, the way his wet jeans cling to his strong thighs, the shine of the darkening bruise on the side of his face. His fingers clench, and he takes another drag, vowing that Gabriel will need a stern talking to come morning.

"And what will your protection cost?" Aiden murmurs, and looks at Nigel, eyes like broken bottles spearing him in place.

Nigel smiles. "I seem like that kind of man?" he asks, taking another pull from his cigarette.

Aiden sighs, and looks away. "Yes."

Nigel hums, not even offended. "Well, gorgeous, I'm sure you'd be quite a lovely fuck, but I prefer it when my partners don't feel like they owe me anything." Aiden huffs, jaw clenching, bulging at the corner. "You remind me of my wife."

Aiden's eyes flash at that, on the table where Nigel's gun lies. "You remind me of my father."

Nigel grins. "I hope in all the worst ways."

At that, he finally sees Aiden smile, really smile, and it softens his entire face, makes him look young and beautiful and Nigel's mouth waters. He stubs out his cigarette in the little bowl by the head of his bed, and stands.

"You may repay me however you'd like, darling," he says. "But I think anyone who can outrun the wolves deserves a little break, don't you?"

Aiden hums at that, and when Nigel looks at him, he sees his chin lifted, eyes bright, a smile wide and off-kilter on his face. It's a savage, charming smile, a rattlesnake in a mouse nest. He drums his fingers on his thighs and tilts his head. "I believe there was mention of a shirt?"

Nigel laughs. "Of course, darling." He goes to the pitiful inbuilt closet at the foot of his bed, pulls out a black polo shirt that he knows will swamp Aiden, and doesn't fight the visceral little thrill he gets when he sees Aiden put it on. There's something very satisfying about seeing a sweet, pretty boy in one's own clothing.

And this kitten has claws, and sharp teeth. Aiden stands, flips the silver knife in his grip once, twice, and sets it beside Nigel's gun, and it feels like an offering of partnership. The place where he sat is damp, tinged with brown.

Aiden folds his arms across his chest, picking at the loose, wide cuff of the shirt sleeve, and fixes Nigel with a calculating look. "I'm hungry," he says.

"Then I'll feed you."

Aiden smiles, and lifts his chin. "I'm cold," he says.

Nigel grins. "Then I'll keep you warm."

Aiden laughs. It's a quiet sound, but sincere. "Do I still remind you of your wife?"

Nigel approaches him, pulls Aiden's arms from his chest, cupping his wrists, and Aiden shivers. "Less and less, gorgeous," he replies. He tilts his head. "I'll bet your father was a royal fucking shit."

"Is," Adam says, eyes flashing. "He's a bastard, through and through."

Nigel smiles. "People have called me a bastard."

Aiden hums. "I bet they call you a lot of things."

"And what would you like to call me, darling?"

"I'd settle for your name," Aiden says, and Nigel laughs. He'd quite forgotten to introduce himself. How rude.

"Nigel," he says, and Aiden nods, sighing. Nigel closes the distance a little further, cups Aiden's neck and Aiden shivers, biting his lower lip. His eyelids fall, lashes thick, obscuring his lovely eyes. He lets his lower lip free, dragging it, and it's like a taunt. Nigel wants to take it between his own, wants to taste the sweetness he's sure is buried within.

"Would you like to pay your father a visit, Aiden?" he asks, thumb sweeping across his strong jaw. Aiden's eyes lift, and widen, and he sucks in a breath. But there is something there, some deep-seated, ravenous thing Nigel had seen when he fought the wolves.

Aiden licks his lips, touches Nigel's chest. "I think," he begins, clicking his tongue on the 'K', "I'm overdue to go home." He tilts his head, leaning into Nigel's touch. "And you want to come with me?" Nigel nods, and Aiden smiles. "Who am I, to you, that you'd do that?"

Nigel smiles, and runs his hand up, fisting in Aiden's hair tightly. Aiden gasps, arching to him unconsciously, his hands sliding up to rest on Nigel's collarbones. "You're a man with unfinished business," Nigel says. "I understand that."

Aiden grins, and drops his eyes to Nigel's mouth. "And when that business is finished?"

"The world is our fucking oyster, darling," Nigel says. He tilts his head and Aiden's eyes lift to him again. "Come on," he purrs, leaning close, resting their foreheads together. "What do you say?"

"I say you're fucking insane," Aiden breathes, his smile wide. "I'm into it."

Nigel laughs, and he can't help himself – Aiden's sweet mouth has taunted him for far too long. He thinks of how this boy had looked, biting at the cap of his pen, scratching his lower lip, that pretty crease in his brow as he'd worked on his marvelous art. He leans in, sensing no resistance, and pulls Aiden the final rest of the way. Aiden gasps, lips parted and accepting Nigel's tongue with eager grace. He shivers, arching against Nigel, warm and blushing and damp between his legs.

Nigel growls, tugging on his hair, and Aiden parts from him with another gasp, letting out an indignant huff. His eyes flash, wild, wanting, and he lunges for Nigel again, with enough force that Nigel stumbles, laughing, and falls to the bed. Aiden mounts him, straddles his thighs, and runs a hand through Nigel's hair, curls his fingers and tugs.

He leans back, shoulders to the wall, and Aiden growls, kissing him again, before he parts, chest heaving, blush heavy on his cheeks. "You're fucking insane, Nigel."

"You're not the first to say so," Nigel replies, grinning when Aiden merely rolls his eyes. He flattens a hand over Aiden's hammering pulse, pulls at his hair, and Aiden's eyes slip closed, a soft sigh spilling from his lips. "You'll come with me?"

"Yes," Aiden says, smiling, and opens his eyes. He graces chill fingertips over Nigel's cheekbone, purrs gently under his touch, and lets Nigel kiss him again. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Thank you, gorgeous, for letting me join yours," Nigel replies, grinning. "I think you and I will have a lot of fun together."

Aiden tilts his head, sweet and charming, and shows his teeth. "I think so, too."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning finds them curled up around each other, Aiden's face a soft mask of sleep, his cheeks blush-warm. He looks lovely, and Nigel could happily stare at him all morning, but there are the wolves to consider. They will not wait long before moving in on Nigel's turf and causing shit.

He sighs, and aches for a cigarette, and rolls over to reach for one. By the time he has one lit and is blowing the first cloud up into the air, Aiden is awake. He stares at Nigel with bleary, bottle glass eyes, and his nose wrinkles in distaste at the sight of Nigel smoking.

"How many of those you smoke a day?" he asks.

Nigel shrugs. "As many as necessary."

Aiden huffs, and pushes himself upright, wincing at the strain on his injured arm. It hasn't bled through in the night, which is good, though Nigel would still like to check it before they move on. He sighs, holds his cigarette between his teeth, and gets to his feet. There is a duffle bag beneath the bed which he pulls out and throws onto where he was sleeping, and goes to his closet to pull out his supply of clothes, tossing them with little rhyme or reason towards the bag.

Aiden huffs, and sits cross-legged, folding each piece of clothing and shoving them into the bag. "So, America?" he asks. He sounds cautious, like the promises they made last night mean nothing in the light of the new day. 

Nigel hums, sucks in a breath, blows out another cloud of smoke and returns the cigarette to his teeth. "Italy, first," he says. "Gotta get the fuck outta here, though."

Aiden looks up. "What's in Italy?"

Nigel smirks at him. "What, gorgeous, don't you like men of mystery?" he asks.

Aiden's cheeks color a shade darker, and he looks down at the half-mess of Nigel's clothes, before he continues to fold and pack. 

"Maybe in a 'lovely fuck'," he says, making Nigel choke on his next inhale, and lean away from the closet door to stare at Aiden with wide eyes. The kid grins, wide and off-kilter. "But not with partners in crime."

Nigel smiles and shakes his head. "Alright, darling, fair play," he says. The closet is empty and he closes it, then sits as Aiden continues to fold and pack. He grabs the first aid kit and tucks it into one of the side pockets. "My cousin's there. He's got rich friends, and money, both of which I'm sorely lacking in right now."

Aiden looks at him, tilts his head. "Is he…like you?" he asks. Nigel grins at him, expecting him to squirm and grow uncomfortable at the long look, but Aiden merely meets his eyes steadily, and then, when Nigel says nothing more, he tilts his head and raises a brow in a challenging look. "The kind of guy to stalk and then rescue someone from wolves, and then jump into a revenge plot with them?"

"Mm." Nigel takes one last drag, stubs the cigarette into the ashtray, and blows the smoke cloud up. "Probably the stalking and revenge plot part." Aiden's head tilts. "He's goin' through some crazy shit right now. I think seeing me will make him unclench for a bit."

Aiden's other brow joins the first, disbelieving and amused. 

"Why do I get the feeling your family is just chaotic by nature?" he asks.

Nigel grins, and winks at him. "Because all the hot ones are fucking crazy," he replies. He zips the bag closed and hauls the strap over his shoulder, and grabs his gun. He hands Aiden his silver knife. "Let's go, darling. We can swing by your place and get your stuff and then we gotta get the fuck outta dodge."

Aiden blinks at him as though surprised, taking the knife without a word. He lifts his eyes, meets Nigel's, and taps the tip of his knife against his lower lip. It looks swollen, like he bites it in his sleep. Nigel didn't wake up due to any nightmares from his bedmate, so he can't say for sure.

His head tilts when Aiden doesn't reply. "Something you'd like to say, gorgeous?"

At that, a softness comes to Aiden's eyes, and he sighs, tugging at his tangled mess of curls with his free hand, and pushes himself to his feet. "No," he replies, in a tone that means there are a lot of things he would like to say. Nigel huffs, palming for another cigarette and growling a short curse when he finds the pack empty. Just as well; he can get some on the way.

Aiden walks with his hands in his back pockets, the silver knife tucked through one of the belt loops, making Nigel's too-large shirt bulge weirdly around the handle like an American cowboy showing his pistol. Aiden leads him through winding streets, the sun climbing rapidly into the sky, brightening it to a blue that is pretty and soft. He leads Nigel up to the apartment he's been renting, and goes inside.

The place is a mess, though Aiden moves through it carefully but assuredly, so it's a controlled mess. Nigel can appreciate a controlled mess, like a soundproofed gunfight. He drops his bag by the door, cocks his head and thumbs at a pile of papers on a desk by the window. On it are pages and pages of sketches – some of buildings he recognizes. Some, of the wolf girl he's seen Aiden flirting with, the one who works in the chocolate shop. Some are of wolves, snarling beasts or animals that look more like puppies, a subtle texture to their fur and a brightness to their eyes that makes them look almost friendly.

He hears Aiden moving around, and then his attention is caught by a shadow at the window. He frowns, taking his gun out and prowling next to the wall, careful not to step on any discarded sketchbooks or tossed sweaters, and gets to the window right as he sees the wolf girl crouching next to the open glass, peering inside.

He lunges for her, grabs her by the hair and hauls her inside, to her knees. He puts his gun to her temple. "Easy now, sweetheart," he says when she snaps at him, swiping with her claws. "Steady."

"Let go of me!" she shrieks.

Aiden runs to them, skidding to a halt, his eyes wide when he sees Nigel and the girl. "Vivian?" he murmurs weakly, his voice turning very soft. He palms, absently, at the bandage around his arm, and then lifts his eyes to meet Nigel's. He huffs out an angry breath. "Let her go. She won't hurt me."

Nigel isn't so sure, but he releases her head and steps back, keeping his gun trained on her. She glares at him and shows her teeth, her eyes shining. In answer, Nigel pulls the hammer back on his gun.

" _Jesus_ , will both of you _calm down_ ," Aiden snaps, and walks forward, confidently. He lifts his chin at Nigel, fixes him with an expectant half-glare, but Nigel merely cocks his head because he'll be damned if he saves Aiden's neck from the Goddamn wolves only to have a pretty pup get too close to him.

Aiden huffs, and turns to look at Vivian. "What are you doing here?" 

"I had to see you," she says. She reaches out to him and Aiden stiffens, leaning back, so her hand lands on his shoulder instead of his cheek. Then he does step back, forcing her hand to drop. Her eyes are dark, heavy with sadness, and she swallows. "I heard what happened. Gabriel was supposed to let you go. You won."

"Yeah," Aiden says. His own claws are flexing, and he slants a quick look Nigel's way. "No thanks to you or your pack."

Vivian lets out a soft, hurt noise. "I didn't want them to hurt you," she says. "I begged Gabriel to let you go."

"Is this what your family does?" he demands. "Traps some helpless sap and hunts him down?" He steps in close to her, and Nigel's breath catches, because there is something dangerous in Aiden's eyes, something that looked at Nigel and lunged for him in Nigel's apartment. That sunning cat, claws extended and eyes wide open. 

"I never liked the hunt," Vivian says. "I just…I just want to run. That's all I ever did."

Aiden doesn't break eye contact with her, and finally Vivian swallows, and lowers her eyes. Tilts her chin, just a little, to show her neck. It's a wolf thing, Nigel knows enough about them to know that – and Aiden must too. His shoulders slacken, just a little, and he runs a hand through his hair.

"Look," he begins, and sighs heavily when Vivian lifts her eyes and meets his. "I'm leaving. Today. Your family wants me outta this city and I'm gonna go." He turns away from her – a stupid thing to do, but maybe he trusts Nigel's marksmanship despite his protests – and starts to gather up the sketches from his desk, sealing them in a large leather portfolio. "You don't have to worry about me and I don't have to worry about you."

Even Nigel flinches at the ice in his tone. He lowers his gun when Vivian whines, and rubs at her neck. "I understand," she murmurs.

Aiden sighs, his eyes slipping closed, brow creasing in a heavy frown that looks too stark on his youthful face. He tucks his portfolio under his arm and turns around again to look at her. "You were a good friend, Viv," he says quietly. She looks at him, her eyes wide and wet. "And I had a great time getting to know you. I just…think some time away from each other would be good." He huffs a laugh. "At least until things calm down."

Nigel sees her chin lift, and she rocks onto her toes in a little puppy-like, hopeful gesture. She smiles, and nods. "Yeah," she says. "Until things calm down."

He smiles at her, and she looks to Nigel. Swallows, and says, "Take care of him."

Nigel grins at her, and shoves his pistol into the back of his jeans. "I don't think he needs anyone's help with that."

Aiden looks at him, a brief flare of grateful surprise. Vivian nods again, and goes to the window, climbing up and jumping down to the street below. Neither of them watches her leave – Aiden's eyes are bright, bluer in the sun, and he looks at Nigel like they've only just met.

Then, he swallows, and his cheeks bear a light blush. "Thanks," he says.

"For what?"

Aiden's slim shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. He runs a hand through his hair and hands Nigel his portfolio. "Let me get my bags," he says, and disappears into his room again. He returns a moment later, a backpack sitting low on him, and a duffle bag like Nigel's, though in much better shape, in his hand. Aiden goes to him and takes the portfolio back, tucking it under his arm.

Nigel catches his chin, lifts his face. "I meant it," he says, because it feels important to say. "You might be a skinny little thing but I think you could rip someone to fucking pieces if you had to."

Aiden slow-blinks, breathes out, but his lips twitch in a smile almost proud. "Yeah, well," he mutters, and tries to pull back, but Nigel tightens his hand and makes their eyes lock again. 

"It's not just anyone who can stand up to the wolves, gorgeous," Nigel says. His eyes drop to Aiden's mouth as Aiden licks his lips, and bites his lower one, adding another shade of rose-blush to it. _God_ , he's beautiful, golden and fine like one of the big cats.

Aiden sets his bag down, and lifts his free hand to wrap around Nigel's wrist. He turns his head, nuzzles his cheek into Nigel's palm, and sets his teeth, lightly, to his pulse, their eyes never breaking contact from each other. The sight makes Nigel's fingers curl, makes his breath catch, as he stares, and Aiden stares right back.

"Well," Aiden says after a moment, "I guess that makes me somebody, doesn't it?"

Nigel smiles, and Aiden lets his hand go.

"Come on," he says, and takes his bag again, and Nigel gathers his as they leave the apartment. Nigel hails a taxi and they climb in, Nigel rattling off quick instructions in Romanian to get them to the train station. Aiden reclines next to him, his eyes on the buildings as they pass; on the people, sharp and narrowed.

"How long will it take us to get where we're going?" Aiden asks after a while.

Nigel shrugs. "Probably just under a week or so," he replies. He hasn't been outside the city on a train for a long while, but this part of Europe isn't that big. "We'll have to make some stops and change over." He pauses, and tilts his head Aiden's way. "If you'd like, we can…take our time."

Aiden turns to him, grins slow and wide. His arm is up against the window, elbow braced, and he runs his fingers along his mouth in a gesture that seems too absent-minded to be flirtatious, but Nigel doesn't trust that wicked, bright light in Aiden's eyes any more than he trusts a begging junkie that he's 'good' for a hit pre-payment.

"Yeah?"

Nigel shows his teeth in his smile. "The world's our fucking oyster, darling," he says, and takes Aiden's free hand, resting them together atop Aiden's portfolio which rests on the seat between them. "Why not skip along and see what there is to see?"

"That sounds nice," Aiden murmurs, lashes going low. Definitely flirtatious, now. "But I thought you said you didn't have any money."

Nigel grins. "I have friends in a lot of places."

Aiden laughs. "Oh, you and your _friends_ ," he says, purring the word. "So what am I?"

Nigel tilts his head.

"If your 'friends' are people you hit up for a safe house, and your family is a chaotic mess who need to 'unclench', then what am I?"

Nigel purses his lips, and considers that. "Well," he says, and can almost _hear_ Darko in his head muttering under his breath about how stupid Nigel is, how prone to quick infatuation. "What would you like to be?"

Aiden smirks, cheeks bulging, and he pets over his lips again. Bites his lower one, and squeezes Nigel's hand. Then, he pulls his hand away, and flattens it on his thigh, dragging slowly up with his nails, then back down. Nigel's attention is rapt, hunter-focused, and he growls when Aiden drags his thumb, slow, from the corner of his mouth to the center, and grins wide.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Nigel breathes out, heavily, and _desperately_ needs a fucking cigarette.

"Guess so," he replies softly, and Aiden laughs, sweet and soft.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter, but a soft one :D

The first leg of their train journey takes them from Bucharest to Gara Timișoara Nord. It's the furthest East Nigel has been in a long time, and it will take just shy of ten hours for the whole first leg. Nigel wants to be out of Romania before they stop for rest, but putting that much distance between him, Aiden, and the wolves helps calm his mind somewhat.

That, and it's hard to think of anything too dark when in Aiden's company. His companion seems to have shrugged off the tension in his shoulders and the worried crease in his forehead, and he smiles, and seems much more relaxed. Which is good – Nigel wants Aiden to be relaxed around him, to trust him.

It's too dark for most of the journey for them to enjoy the view, but Nigel will admit he's seen quite enough of this country – Aiden, though, Aiden is beautiful, and a fresh wonder to his eyes.

Once they're settled on the train, sat opposite each other in a booth on one side, Nigel taps the table between them and gets out the first aid kit from his duffle bag, which sits on top of Aiden's portfolio and one of Aiden's bags. "Arm up, let's have a look at that cut."

Aiden sighs, but obeys, lifting his arm and setting his elbow down on the thin-topped plastic table, his palm turned up. Nigel grins at him and Aiden rolls his eyes, looking down at the bandage as Nigel carefully unwraps it, peeling back the bandage and the square of gauze they'd used to stop the bleeding. Thankfully their train car is relatively empty – he doesn't need anyone paying too much attention to them.

The cut isn't bleeding anymore, and there is a thick, raised line of clotted blood that's beginning to scab on the edges. He pushes out a breath through his teeth, takes another antiseptic wipe, opens it, and dabs gently at the wound so he doesn't run the risk of opening the cut back up.

Aiden hisses, his fingers curling, long enough that his nails catch in Nigel's shirt and tug, creating pressure on the back of his neck. Nigel lifts his eyes, and grins when Aiden glares at him. "Sting?" he asks. Aiden huffs, and nods. "Antibacterial wipes tend to do that."

"Asshole," Aiden mutters.

Nigel smiles, and finishes his work, balling up the wipe along with Aiden's dirty bandages and stuffing them into an outside pocket of his duffle bag. He pats at his shirt and fishes out the box of cigarettes he'd bought at the train station and Aiden's nose wrinkles when he lights one.

"Are you allowed to smoke on the train?" he asks.

Nigel raises a brow, and then reaches up and pulls the little slat along the top of the window open. Immediately the roar of the train over the tracks outside gets louder, and there is a rush of cold wind that makes Aiden shiver and curl up.

Aiden glares at him, though there's an amused tilt to his mouth, and he curls up sideways along the two chairs, his back to the vibrating wall, and leans his head back by the window, sighing heavily. Nigel takes another inhale of his cigarette, sighing as the nicotine, or at least the placebo effect, settles heavily at the base of his skull and makes his eyelids droop.

Aiden puffs out a breath, scratching at the thin layer of stubble darkening his cheeks and chin. "You should get some sleep," Nigel suggests. "We're gonna be here a while."

Aiden hums, drumming his hands against the backs of his raised thighs, and leans forward to put his chin on his knees. "I don't know if I can," he replies. "I don't know, you seem the kind of guy who just rolls with it when shit gets crazy but this is…a lot, for me."

Nigel laughs, lifts his chin and blows out a mouthful of smoke. "I don't know, gorgeous, you seem to be handling the whole situation pretty well."

Aiden's lips thin out, he ducks his head and presses his nose to his knees, and sighs. "Got anything to eat?" he asks, voice muffled but clear enough.

Nigel sighs, and shakes his head. "Sorry, no," he replies. "But one of these train cars might have something you can get food at." Aiden nods, but seems just as unwilling to get up and search for food as he is to sleep. His shoulders are tense, his jaw tight, and Nigel tilts his head and leans forward, elbows on the table. "C'mon, gorgeous, talk to me. Maybe I can help."

Aiden lifts his head, and fixes Nigel with his pretty, dark gaze. "I don't like being chased," he says tightly.

"The wolves won't venture outside their city. They're a lot of bark," Nigel replies, and grins at his own joke. Aiden huffs, rolling his eyes. "And I don't know, that friend of yours seemed alright. I'm sure she'll do her best to make sure no one follows us." His head tilts. "You trust her, don't you?"

"Trust is a strong word," Aiden replies, but his face softens. "But I want to. I want to trust you, too, even though I'm pretty sure you're crazy."

Nigel grins, and takes another drag of his cigarette, taking out the ruined bandages and using them as a makeshift ashtray to stub out the butt. "Well, I can't promise I'm not crazy, but I'll try my best to behave myself, and if there comes a time when you change your mind, you can leave and be on your merry way. Sound good?"

Aiden huffs, his eyes flashing, and then he straightens, pushing himself up from his seat. He circles the table and gathers their bags and his portfolio, placing them where he just sat on the other seats, and gestures for Nigel to stand.

"Come on," he says, and Nigel lifts a brow, but obeys, and watches as Aiden slides into where he was just sitting, curling up against the window. He nods to the other seat. "Sit next to me."

Nigel smiles, and sits down beside Aiden, close enough that their thighs press warmly together. Aiden turns, snuggling up to his side, his cheek on Nigel's shoulder and his hand resting on his wrist, fingers curled around his bared skin gently. Nigel turns his head, nuzzling into Aiden's soft, warm curls, and breathes out, content with the warmth and weight of Aiden at his side.

Aiden slackens against him, his eyelids drooping, and he rubs his cheek against Nigel's shoulder and lets out a heavy sigh. "You gonna keep watch?" he asks, tiredness creeping into his voice. Nigel smiles, and fights his arm free, wrapping it around Aiden's slim shoulders and tugging him closer.

"Sure thing, gorgeous," he replies, and kisses Aiden's hair. "Get some sleep."


	4. Chapter 4

They arrive at Gara Timișoara Nord with little fuss. Aiden slept most of the way, curled up and soft in Nigel's arms, Nigel keeping watch as he promised he would. The train station itself is bustling with life, large windows letting in the dawn and illuminating their way as they emerge onto the street, which is busy despite the early hour. Tourists and locals alike crowd together, chattering away, content to ignore them. Around the train station sit high buildings of concrete and pale stone, and Aiden holds his portfolio close to his chest, his eyes wide as he takes in their surroundings.

"Come on, gorgeous," Nigel murmurs, taking his hand. "We can go sightseeing later."

Aiden nods, ducking his head and following Nigel as he turns left, walking close to the side of the buildings so that they're mostly unbothered by people passing the other way. They walk until the urban pieces start to fade away, and older buildings rise up, and Nigel doesn't miss how Aiden's eyes light up in wonder, his lips parted and a faint smile on his face as he gazes upon them.

"Wow," he breathes, in that way Americans do in older countries. "These are beautiful."

"They're not the only things," Nigel says with a wink, making Aiden's eyes flash, his cheeks darken in a pretty blush.

"Do you ever stop flirting?" he says, a half-hearted snap that's absolutely ruined by his off-kilter, charming smile. He presses close to Nigel at a stoplight, waiting for it to turn green so they can cross the road.

Nigel hums, and squeezes his hand, pleased that Aiden doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting go. "Never," he promises. "Gorgeous things like you deserve to be reminded whenever fucking possible."

Aiden laughs, and rolls his eyes. 

They keep walking, for the better part of an hour, until Nigel stops in front of another concrete building, with a single black door covered by an iron grate. There's a buzzer next to it and he pushes the fourth one up, that doesn't have a name.

"Ce?" comes the reply – a woman, her tone gruff and aggravated.

Nigel grins. "Daniela, darling," he says in Romanian. "It's Nigel."

"Oh, no," Daniela mutters. Nigel can already see her shaking her head, her thin lips pursed out like she's tasted something sour. "Get out of here, you rogue. I have no interest in dealing with you today."

Nigel's smile widens. "Darling, please, I have a friend here with me who needs a safe place to spend the night."

Daniela huffs. "One of your friends?" she asks. "He can find his own way. I know what kind of friends you make." Well, Nigel can't exactly argue with that.

"He's a new friend," he replies. "Come on, darling, let us in. I promise, if you don't fall in love with him you can kick my ass straight to the curb."

She is silent, for a while, long enough that Aiden shifts restlessly behind him, squeezing his hand. Then, finally, there's a buzz and a muttering from her, some curse half-muffled, and Nigel winks at Aiden, then pushes the grate to one side and opens the unlocked door. Inside, the floor is marbled but filthy at the edges, and there is a single set of stairs leading up.

They go to the fourth floor, and Daniela is already there, dressed in long cargo shorts that hang low on her bony hips, an oversized sweater draped across her shoulders and coming to a stop just short of her knees. She's a petite woman, silver-haired, her brown eyes dark and her expression sour and shrewd when Nigel and Aiden come into view.

"Daniela," Nigel purrs, and lets go of Aiden to embrace her. She allows it, humming like a mother who has just had her teenage son dropped on her by the police. "Aiden, this is Daniela," Nigel says, in English. "Daniela, Aiden."

"Hi," Aiden murmurs, holding out his hand to shake. She regards him with arched brows, but takes his hand, and her expression softens after a moment. She's a sharp judge of character, can look at a man and pick him to pieces with a single glance, and she knows within a moment that Aiden is not like one of Nigel's normal 'friends'.

"May we come in?" Nigel asks, sticking to English for Aiden's sake.

She hums, lifts her chin, and steps to one side. They enter, and she closes and locks the door behind them. Her apartment is more like a single room, only sectioned off for a bathroom, the rest completely open-plan and covered in large blankets. Daniela doesn't like sitting, prefers lounging on the floor or nesting in the single big black armchair she has tucked into the corner. Furniture, she told Nigel once, just means more places to hide.

"So," Daniela says, raising a brow again, her hands on her hips. "Why are you here?"

Aiden stands awkwardly between them, naturally gravitating towards Nigel, and Nigel grins at her, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "We just need a place to spend the night, is all," he tells her, plastering on his most charming smile – one she sees right through, no doubt. Her lips purse again. "We're going to America."

"America," she repeats, and looks at Aiden. "You're American?"

Aiden nods. "Yes ma'am," he says, voice soft. His fingers flex around his portfolio. 

"You were in Bucharest, last I heard," Daniela says with another sharp look Nigel's way. "You met there?"

Aiden nods. 

She hums again. If she has anything to say about it, she remains silent. "Well. One night, yes. One night only."

"Thank you, darling," Nigel replies. "I owe you one."

"Add it to the others," she replies with a lift of her chin. She looks at Aiden again, and finally softens, shaking her head. "You are skin and bone. Come, I will feed you. Come, come." She gestures for Aiden to follow her to the little kitchenette. Aiden looks to Nigel, brows lifted, and Nigel merely grins, taking Aiden's stuff from him and piling their bags together by one of the nests Daniela has in her living room.

"You have a nice apartment," he hears Aiden say, and smiles, digging out another cigarette and lighting it, finding an ashtray on the floor. He picks it up and carries it to the kitchen, setting it down on the end of the counter so he can smoke while she makes food. 

"Thank you," Daniela says. She's softer, now – she knows what predators look like and Aiden is making a fine job of appearing no more threatening than a domesticated housecat. "How did you manage to get with this one?" she asks, and nods to Nigel.

Aiden swallows, biting his lower lip, and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "He got into trouble," Nigel says around a puff of smoke. "I helped him get out of it."

"You invite trouble," Daniela says with a huff. She waves a wooden spoon threateningly in his direction. "Watch out for this one, little Aiden. Men like him find themselves in deeper shit than they try to climb out of."

Aiden smiles, a flash of teeth, his eyes bluer now in the soft lighting coming from outside. Daniela doesn't have a lot of unnatural light in her apartment either, relying on the sun to guide her way.

His eyes slide to Nigel, and his smile widens. "Oh," he purrs. "I'm well aware."

She looks between them both, and rolls her eyes when Nigel grins. 

"I have to make a call," he says, stubbing out his cigarette and patting down his shirt. "And get us some shit." Aiden's eyes flash again, his lips turning down at the corners. "I won't be long, gorgeous."

Aiden huffs, folding his arms across his chest, but doesn't protest if he has any to voice. Nigel smiles, prowls over to him and slides a hand into his hair. He doesn't miss how Aiden shivers, instinctively sagging into the touch, his eyelids drooping.

Nigel rests their foreheads together. "An hour, tops," he murmurs.

Aiden nods, breathes out, and bites his lower lip.

Nigel nods, parts with one last look to Daniela, and heads back out, lighting another cigarette as he goes. He pulls out his cell phone, cigarette planted between his teeth as he goes through his contacts until he finds the one he wants.

"Nigel?" The voice on the other end is younger, breathless like Nigel caught him mid-workout. "I can't believe it's you! How may I help you?"

"I need you to find someone for me," Nigel says, running a hand through his hair and turning right, back towards the train station where tourist shops and department stores are. He'll find everything he needs, there. "My cousin. Spitting image though he'll kill you if you tell him that."

The man is silent for a moment. Then, "Do you have a name?"

"Yeah. Hannibal Lecter, though he's probably going by something else," Nigel mutters. "You still in Florence?"

"I can be there tonight."

"Excellent," Nigel purrs, smiling. "Oh, and be careful. He might play the part well but he's fucking crazy. Worse than I am."

That earns a laugh. "Really?" The man is smiling, intrigued – he's always had a soft spot for the dangerous ones. "I'll be sure to remain on my guard. What should I do, once I find him?"

"Fucking call me, of course," Nigel says, rolling his eyes. "I mean it. Don't get close to him. He'll gut you and serve your insides at a dinner party."

"I'll be careful," the man replies. He sounds terribly fascinated. Stupid man. "I'll call you when I find him."

Nigel smiles. "Alright, Anthony. Good luck."


	5. Chapter 5

Since Daniela only has blankets and cushions, and commandeers her big black armchair to sleep in, Nigel and Aiden end up plastered together in a makeshift camping roll, lying on two thick blankets with a third wrapped around them to block out the night chill – though, Nigel is relieved to note, it doesn't get particularly cold this time of year, and coupled with the warmth radiating from Aiden's body, he's more than comfortable.

They lie facing each other, and though Aiden's eyes are closed, Nigel has spent enough time with him to know that he's not asleep. Aiden sighs, after a while, eyes opening to slits, peering at Nigel in the muted darkness, lit by a soft yellow glow from the street lights outside.

Nigel smiles at him, and reaches out to tuck a curl behind his ear. "Can't sleep?"

"Not with you staring at me like that," Aiden replies, but he's smiling. "I feel sorry for your wife."

"Ex-wife," Nigel corrects.

"Right." Aiden huffs, burrowing into the pillow beneath his head, his arm folded to give it a little extra thickness so he can prop his head up. He sighs, biting his lower lip, and eyes Nigel silently. "Who did you have to make a phone call to?"

"A friend of mine in Italy, where my cousin is," he says.

Aiden's brows arch up. "A friend, huh?" he repeats. "Not your cousin himself?"

Nigel shakes his head. "He and I haven't spoken in years," he replies. "Not sure how to reach him, even if I wanted to directly."

Aiden frowns. "So, what, you're just going to show up on his doorstep? Isn't this the same cousin you said was, what, ten kinds of crazy?" Nigel grins at him, and nods, and Aiden rolls his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling I was safer when I had a pack of wolves hunting me?"

"Because you're pretty enough to be that stupid, gorgeous," Nigel replies, making Aiden glare at him. But he's blushing, now, and bites his lower lip to hide his smile.

"What're you gonna tell him?" he asks.

"That I plan on using his money and means to get us to America under the radar, to kill your father for you," Nigel replies with a shrug, unrepentant. "I think he'll appreciate the reasoning behind it."

"There is no reasoning," Aiden argues. "Except some insane idea that this'll, I don't know, redeem you or something." Nigel tilts his head. "Well it's either that or you think killing my dad will make me wanna fuck you."

"I think you already wanna fuck me," Nigel says with a grin, and it widens when Aiden rolls his pretty eyes again. "But let's just say I know what it's like to have an asshole father, and if someone had offered to gut him for me, I would have given it some serious thought."

"Right," Aiden murmurs, his voice gentling. He sighs, and closes his eyes. "I'll be honest with you, Nigel, I really don't know how I'm going to react if I see him again." A tremor runs through him, violent enough Nigel feels it, and he frowns, not fighting the instinct to pet over Aiden's skinny waist, wanting to soothe him. "The shit he did to me…the shit I think he'd still try and do given half the chance…"

He swallows, and opens his eyes again, and they are black in the shadows. "I'm fuckin' terrified."

"Hey," Nigel murmurs, and slides his hand up to gently cup Aiden's neck – he can feel, beneath his palm, the clamminess of his skin, the flutter of his frightened pulse. "I'm here. I'm not afraid – I'll do whatever I have to, gorgeous, to keep you safe."

Aiden shivers. "I know that's meant to be reassuring, but I think I'd be crazy to let that calm me," he whispers. Still, he presses closer, seeking Nigel's heat, sighing as Nigel's hand slides into his hair, cradling his skull. Aiden bites his lower lip, reaches forward with his free hand and taps, lightly, on Nigel's chest. "What if…?" He trails off, sucking in another breath.

"What if?" Nigel repeats, coaxing.

"What if I told you I didn't want to go? We could just…fuck off to Spain, or France or something. I make enough money with my graphic novels, we could find a place and just stay there."

It's a nice thought – a very nice thought, and that's nothing to speak for the permanence of what Aiden's suggesting. But; "Gorgeous, believe me, men like your father don't just disappear because you want them to," he says gently. "As long as he's alive, you're gonna be looking over your fucking shoulder forever."

"And I won't be, if we kill him?" Aiden demands, but keeps his voice soft so as not to wake Daniela.

Nigel smiles. "I've killed a lot of people, and my cousin has too, if rumors are to be believed. It only got messy when a pretty face was involved."

"You called me pretty," Aiden returns. "So by your logic, we're doomed to fail."

Nigel sighs, petting through Aiden's soft hair, pleased when he does, reluctantly, relax and shiver beneath his touch. "Do you trust me?" he whispers.

"I shouldn't," Aiden replies. "Never trust a man who asks you if you trust him."

Nigel grins. "Clever boy." Aiden smiles at him. "Then I won't ask. Just trust me. I'll keep you safe – from the wolves, from my cousin, from your father, from all the fucking law enforcement agencies in the world."

Aiden huffs a laugh, sighs, and spreads his hand warm and wide on Nigel's hip, wriggling closer. His forehead touches Nigel's chin, and Nigel is quick to pull him close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and kisses at his wild, lovely curls, breathing in deeply.

"We can stay here as long as you want," he says. "Take our time. There's no rush, sweetheart."

Aiden hums. "Daniela said we only had the night."

Nigel grins. "I'll sweet-talk her," he says. "You've already done your part, seducing her with that innocent charm of yours." Aiden rolls his eyes, bats playfully at Nigel's chest, and huffs in a meek protest. He hums. "Not so innocent though, are you, gorgeous? Not if you're associating with the likes of me."

"Or maybe you're a better person than you give yourself credit for," Aiden says quietly, his voice soft, slurring a little – finally relaxed enough to sleep, in Nigel's arms. "Murder aside."

 _Murder aside_. Nigel laughs, and kisses his hair. "Get some rest, gorgeous," he purrs, pleased when Aiden shivers, and doesn't protest. "In the morning I'll take you out and you can sketch all the pretty buildings and shit you want."

"My hero," Aiden replies, sarcasm softened by his sleepy tone. He sighs, burrowing closer, a kitten with his claws sheathed, and they fall asleep like that, curled up and warm, the outside sounds of cars passing and people crying out to each other on the street lost under Aiden's gentle breathing and slow, steady heartbeat.


	6. Chapter 6

Nigel is roused from sleep by his phone ringing. He stirs with a grunt, carefully separating himself from Aiden's warmth, and fishes his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the foreign number that sits on the screen.

By his side, Aiden gives a sleepy huff, and rolls onto his back, his head tilted away. The soft golden light coming from the outside bathes him in a muted glow, makes his tanned skin look like pottery – something delicate and finely-made. Christ, he's beautiful, how the fuck no one managed to snatch him up yet will forever be beyond Nigel.

He shoves himself to his feet, absently pawing at his pocket for cigarettes, one of which he takes out and lights as he quietly removes himself from Daniela's apartment. He takes a drag as the door closes, puffs out the plume of smoke, and answers the call.

"Yeah?" he snaps.

"Good morning, Nigel."

Nigel closes his eyes, rubbing his fingers across his forehead, careful not to get ash on himself or accidentally burn his head like a Goddamn idiot. "Hannibal, hey!" he says, forcing his voice to sound jovial and welcoming. He takes another drag from his cigarette. "How's my favorite cousin?"

Hannibal hums, the sound both amused and aggravated – how he manages that, Nigel will never know. Guy's a fucking sociopath, and that's saying something, coming from him. "I'm doing marvelously, thank you for asking," he replies, because he's always fucking polite, calling someone at four in the Goddamn morning aside. "It has been a long while."

Nigel grunts, and takes another drag.

"Still smoking, unless my ears deceive me."

"My body's a temple of incense and Goddamn woodfire," Nigel replies, flicking off the gathering ash from the butt. The laugh Hannibal lets out is fond, like Nigel is a favored child who just told him a rather basic joke. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nigel, please, coy was never a good look on you. I've been speaking with a friend of yours – quite a charming man, I certainly hope it's a reflection of decent company you're now keeping."

Nigel freezes, his free hand curling into a fist around his cigarette. Damn it, he _specifically_ told Anthony not to engage Hannibal. Hannibal is the kind of cat that does not toy with his prey once it's caught, though he's not above playing with his food. "Oh?" he asks weakly.

Hannibal hums. "Yes," he replies. Nigel can tell he's smiling, the bastard. "I wanted to be the first to inform you, since I doubt anyone else will, that unfortunately Mister Dimmond will be quite indisposed…for the foreseeable future."

Nigel growls. "The fuck did you do?" he demands.

"Now, now, there's no need for such hostility," Hannibal says, still as gracious and calm as ever. "If it weren't for his noble sacrifice, you and I would have never been reunited. We should be thanking him – and rest assured, he will sit at a place of honor for dinner tonight."

Nigel sighs, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut, taking in another pull from his cigarette. Stupid son of a bitch. "Silver linings, I guess," he says.

"Now, I suppose my next question would be why you decided to send your friend to me. Is there something I can help you with?"

He presses his lips together and sighs through his nose. "I need money," he says – might as well rip off the band-aid. Hannibal might enjoy playing with his food but Nigel has never been that kind of guy. "And a way to get to America."

He can tell that surprises Hannibal, for he is silent for a long time. "Surely that's something you can arrange yourself," Hannibal says slowly. "From what I have gathered you are quite the mogul in your country."

"That shit went south," Nigel replies, and finishes his cigarette, dropping it on the floor and letting it smoke, since he's not wearing shoes and isn't about to go burning the soles of his feet. He lights another one with a sigh. "And it's not just for me. Got a guy with me who needs to get there too."

"Oh? I'm surprised. Is he another friend of yours?"

"You could say that."

"Nigel, you wound me. Why would you not come visit me in person, to ask for such a thing? We were so close before you decided to scurry off East."

That's a damn lie, but Nigel holds his tongue, swallows back the urge to cuss Hannibal out and demand to know if he'll help or not. "I would, but like you said, we _were_ close," he says sharply. "Heard you've been getting into some kind of trouble yourself, in America."

Hannibal laughs. "Yes, I suppose it must be genetic," he replies, and Nigel can tell he's smiling again. Then, he sighs. "I'm afraid I cannot help you, as much as I would like to. I'm expecting a dear friend, who is only going to be in the country for a short while, and I simply cannot spare the time to accommodate your whims."

Nigel growls, and rests against the wall. "Didn't peg you for the type to have friends," he says, taking another drag.

"You know what they say about exceptions and rules and all that."

Before Nigel can reply, the door opens, revealing a sleepy and ruffled-looking Aiden. His cheeks are pink, his eyelids heavy from interrupted sleep, though that does nothing to detract from just how fucking gorgeous he is. Good God, how's Nigel supposed to concentrate when he's got Aiden in his sights?

Aiden meets his eyes, and frowns, head tilting. He rakes Nigel up and down, and then gestures to his phone. "Your cousin?" he asks. Nigel will give him that – the kid's sharp as a fucking tack.

"Is that your friend?" Hannibal asks over the phone, and Nigel winces. "I would very much like to speak to him. Please, put him on."

Nigel doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to.

He hands the phone to Aiden. "He wants to talk to you."

Aiden's frown deepens, creating an adorable crease in his brow and a pouty downward pull at his lips, but he takes the phone, clears his throat, and says, "Hello?"

There's a pause. Nigel keeps his phone soft so people can't overhear what the other person on the line is saying. Aiden meets Nigel's eyes, and swallows, and says, "Yeah, that's me." He turns, and mimics Nigel's pose, leaning against the wall, one arm folded across his chest so his fingers can knead into the dip of his opposite elbow. "Aiden. Um, I guess a little under a week now."

Nigel sighs, and keeps smoking just to give himself something to do.

"Nigel's going to help me kill my father." Nigel chokes on his inhale, and looks at Aiden with wide eyes, sees him smiling wide enough to show the sharp points of his canines. "Yeah, he said you might have some experience in that area, or at least be sympathetic."

There's another long, long silence, to the point where Nigel might have a Goddamn aneurism if it keeps going. He can't read the look on Aiden's face, but then he laughs, and runs a hand through his hair. "I appreciate that. Alright, thanks."

He hands the phone back with a wink.

"Yeah?" Nigel asks, when he has the phone to his ear again.

"You certainly have a habit of favoring young men and women with issues surrounding their father, don't you?" Hannibal says with a laugh. Nigel growls, and rolls his eyes. "As I said, my friend is visiting, and I will be indisposed, but if you can wait for…perhaps a week, seeing how everything goes, then I may be able to help you."

Nigel's eyes widen, and he breathes out heavily. He wants to ask what changed Hannibal's mind, but that's a whole ass can of worms he really shouldn't be kicking at. "Alright," he replies. "We can wait a week."

"Excellent," comes the reply. "I'll be in touch soon. Try not to do anything too dramatic in the meantime."

"I won't if you won't."

That earns another laugh, and then the call ends, and Nigel stares at his phone for a moment, before he sighs, pockets it, and throws his second cigarette away.

"Swear to God, gorgeous, you could charm the rattle from a snake."

"It's a talent," Aiden replies with a shrug of his slim shoulders. He turns, and grins at Nigel, head tilted so his temple rests against the wall. "Someone's gotta be there to smooth out all your rough edges." Nigel snorts, and resists the urge to light another cigarette. "Well, sounds like we have a week to kill."

Nigel nods.

Aiden smiles at him, sleepy and soft, and takes his hand. "Come back to bed," he coaxes, and leads Nigel back inside. Daniela is still in her chair, snoring loudly, and they pile together back on the pallet she gave them, Aiden happily curling up and tucking his nose to Nigel's chest.

"Hey, Nigel?" he murmurs, after a moment of silence, and Nigel gives a sleepy grunt in answer. Aiden pulls back so their eyes can meet. "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me, even if it makes me crazy, but we don't have to go if you don't want to."

Nigel blinks at him.

"Your heart's racing."

"Nicotine does that," he replies roughly.

Aiden hums, biting his lower lip. His lashes dip down, then rise again. "Your cousin scares the shit outta you, doesn't he?"

"I don't like people I can't predict," Nigel replies, curling his fingers in Aiden's hair, pushing it back from his face and neck. "He's a slippery son of a bitch, can't trust him worth a damn." And that is true – Hannibal is the kind of monster that looks like a friend until it's too late.

"You want me to trust you, but neither of us can trust him," Aiden says with a huff, rolling his eyes. "You ever think it might be easier to just…walk away from it all? Turn your back, call it a day, and fuck the lot of them?"

"I would, if I could afford to be that naïve."

Aiden huffs again, and flicks Nigel's collarbone in answer to the indirect insult. Then, he sighs, and nuzzles close again. "Get some sleep," he says, and Nigel nods, pressing his nose to Aiden's hair, which has just started to become that special kind of soft grease holds. They'll both need a shower come morning.


End file.
